The Art of Doing Good

A few days ago marked arguably the most significant milestone of my life thus far: I graduated college. I donned my cap and gown (and struggled to adjust my graduation hood), sat amongst my fellow seniors and anxiously awaited my name to finally be called. Afterwards, I nabbed any friends I could find for a quick photo, rode the ram (it’s a Fordham thing, don’t ask) and joined my family for a celebratory dinner.

That night, I could not help but think to myself: “OK, so…now what?” I mean, I technically know what’s ahead. Over the next couple weeks, I’ll wrap up an internship, begin a full time job, continue to unpack everything I brought home from my dorm and enjoy another New York City summer as much as possible. But what I was wondering at the time, I suppose, is what the next lesson for me will prove to be if I’ve officially closed my college textbooks for good. I have always been a big believer in the idea that learning does not need to take place within the confines of a classroom, but this does not make the idea of going out into the “real world” any less daunting.

As I continue to think about what lies ahead for me in my future, I find myself also reflecting on my past: lessons already learned both inside and beyond the classroom, evolving into the person I am now and, of course (you saw where this was going, right?), the television shows that have heavily impacted my youth. So far, I have written about some of these such as Friends and Everybody Loves Raymond (and will continue to write more on those as well as others), but there is another one I love which seems particularly relevant to the transition I am currently undergoing, a show that is itself about a young individual growing and changing, learning to become an adult and applying lessons taught in the classroom to real life (or vice versa): Boy Meets World.

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            Fe-Fe-Fe Feeny! Plays with Squirrels. Cory and Topanga. I know I am far from the only person my age to remember Boy Meets World so fondly (or to cry every time I rewatch the series finale):

Sitcom Study: Boy Meets World’s “Brave New World” (7×22 and 7×23)

Relevant Episode Information: In the series finale, Cory, Topanga, Shawn and the rest of the gang face life-altering decisions as they contend with what life may hold in store for them once they are no longer in college—but not without some final words from Mr. Feeny.

One of the greatest aspects of Boy Meets World (aside from the memorable characters and clever, funny writing) was the fact that, despite being a “kids’ show” in many ways, the series never shied away from addressing such heavy topics as death, child abuse, alcohol abuse, sexual harassment and bullying. In fact, it’s because of shows like Boy Meets World that a blog such as this—dedicated to the applicable, deeper themes and ideas explored in sitcoms—even makes sense. Boy Meets World consistently respected its viewers and took them seriously which is why, in turn, viewers could take an episode’s message to heart as a legitimate, worthwhile lesson.

This respect was never more apparent than in the series finale, “Brave New World.” Divided into two parts and full of numerous clips highlighting some of the most iconic moments of the show’s seven year run, “Brave New World” finds Boy Meets World’s protagonist Cory Matthews (Ben Savage) attempting to grapple with the possibility of moving from his native Philadelphia to New York City when his wife Topanga Lawrence (Danielle Fishel) is offered a dream internship in the Big Apple. If you’re even a casual viewer of the show, you will know that Cory does not handle change well. Ever.

Enter George Feeny (William Daniels). The Matthews’ next door neighbor, Cory’s mentor and the gang’s teacher in nearly every class from junior high through college (something the show cleverly and frequently jokes about), Mr. Feeny helps Cory realize that maybe Topanga is also hesitant about the move, since such a big change means there is the possibility she may fail; he warns, however, that staying where they are will also hinder growth. As Cory and Topanga finally commit to moving to New York City, with Cory’s older brother Eric (Will Friedle) and best friend Shawn Hunter (Rider Strong) in tow (the Cory/Shawn bromance is too important to be sidelined in this post and will require its own post in the future), Cory advised his younger brother Joshua:

Cory: “Cory: “You’re gonna learn something from [the world] every day, you’re gonna make mistakes…Mr. Feeny will probably teach every grade you’re ever in…even though it seems like the world’s going out of its way to teach you its hard lessons, you’re going to realize it’s the same world that’s given you your family and your friends…Boy Meets World, now I get it.”

Even more memorably, the episode concludes with Cory, Topanga, Shawn and Eric awaiting Feeny in his classroom, eager for one final lesson (and reluctant to say goodbye):

Mr. Feeny: “Believe in yourselves. Dream. Try. Do good.”

Topanga: “Don’t you mean do well?”

Mr. Feeny: “No, I mean do good.”

While Mr. Feeny’s words should undoubtedly be taken to heart, it is what he does (or, rather, what he does not do) in the following moments that should also be remembered. Despite the group’s request, Mr. Feeny refuses to verbally admit that he loves the four of them, saying he is intent on keeping some boundaries. “You haven’t even talked to another student for seven years,” Cory retorts. Sill, he refuses. One by one, the four of them bid him farewell, thanking him tearfully for things such as being the reason they will be good people and, in Topanga’s case, being more of a father than her biological one. It is only when they finally leave the room that Feeny finally admits: “I love you all. Class dismissed.”

Thus, it’s by looking back on my past (through the lens of my love and appreciation for Boy Meets World) that I have come to two important lessons to help guide my future:

1) Don’t shy away from telling someone they matter. You don’t always know when you will see each other again. In a similar manner, also don’t shy away from admitting what you care about, either.

2) Don’t just do well. Do good.

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Bottling Frasier’s Success

In many ways, the success—both commercially and critically—of many iconic sitcoms has come down to one crucial element: familiarity. How relatable are a character’s trials and tribulations to the ones the audience watching has faced? How comforting is the world of a particular sitcom and, moreover, to what extent is it able to serve as an “escape” from reality?

Timeless sitcoms Cheers and Friends are two such shows that exemplify this aura of intimacy between series and viewer. Cheers’ iconic theme song famously boasts the following line: “Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name”––indeed, for eleven seasons millions of viewers came to feel as if they would fit right in among the titular bar’s quirky customers. Similarly, people to this day comment (whether jokingly or not depends on the person) that Friends’ Rachel, Monica, Phoebe, Joey, Chandler, and Ross feel akin to true friends—maybe even family.

This is precisely why sitcom bottle episodes (aka an entire episode mostly, if not entirely, confined to the main cast in one primary location) come off as so endearing. Seinfeld’s “The Chinese Restaurant” and Friends’ “The One Where No One’s Ready” are memorable examples of this formula and, while I love and have repeatedly watched both episodes, it is the two expertly crafted bottle episodes from my other favorite (and often the most criminally underrated nowadays, out of the three) sitcom, Frasier, that will be highlighted here.

Sitcom Study: Frasier’s “My Coffee With Niles” (1×24) and “Dinner Party” (6×17)

Like any good bottle episode, these Frasier episodes primarily take place in one setting; in the first, season one’s finale “My Coffee With Niles”, it is the characters’ go to hangout Café Nervosa and in the latter, season six’s “Dinner Party”, it is Frasier’s apartment. What puts these episodes into a league of their own—aside from the witty repartee that exists in every Frasier episode but is at peak form here—are two additional factors. First, each episode is not merely about the show’s core cast; it is primarily about its two leading characters: Frasier and Niles Crane, which arguably double as the show’s primary “relationship” in that a consistent, central theme of the entire show is their brotherly friendship and, more often than not, inevitable rivalry. This leads to the second factor: the two episodes focus on exploring, and attempting to answer, two primary questions that are imperative as much to the episode’s plot as to the show’s eleven-year arc.

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1) “My Coffee With Niles”

Relevant Episode Information: Frasier and Niles spend the entire episode chatting about their lives at their favorite coffee shop, Café Nervosa.

Primary Question: Is Frasier happy? Moreover, what does it mean to be happy?

While Martin, Roz and Daphne periodically and briefly speak to the brothers throughout the episode, the crux of the episode is Frasier’s response—and lack thereof—to Niles’ inquiry of whether or not he is happy. Note their initial exchange regarding this question:

Niles: “So, Frasier, now that chapter two of your life is in full swing, do you mind if I ask you something?”

Frasier: “No, go right ahead.”

Niles: “Are you happy?”

[Frasier is silent]

Niles: “Did you hear the question?”

Frasier: “Yes, I’m thinking. It’s a seemingly complex question.”

Niles: “No, it’s not.”

Frasier: “Yes, it is.”

Niles: “No, it’s not. Either you’re happy or you’re not.”

Frasier: “Are you happy?”

Niles: “No, but we’re not talking about me.”

With the show’s first season coming to a close, there could not be a more apt time for Niles to ask Frasier this. By this point, viewers (many undoubtedly initial Frasier Crane fans from his Cheers days) have watched twenty-four episodes in which Frasier has worked to adjust to returning to his home city, tackling a new job, reestablishing relationships with his family and being a country away from his only son. So, is Frasier happy with this life-changing decision? This is not the last time such a question will be asked of him, though it often will take more specific forms, typically regarding his level of satisfaction with his job or love life.

One aspect of the aforementioned exchange that intrigues me so much is the fact that Niles and Frasier differ on the complexity of saying whether or not one is happy. In theory, I agree with Niles; I tend to think and speak of happiness as something akin to love in that it is instinctual—if you feel either, you know, otherwise you do not. In practice, however, I have found myself more on Frasier’s side of this discussion in that I usually take a few moments to reflect on recent events before offering a response.

Furthermore, of course, it is simply not in Frasier’s character to simply say “yes” or “no” to this or really any question without thoroughly weighing the pros and cons. Later in season four, Frasier will spend an entire episode agonizing over whether or not he believes Niles and his first wife, Maris, truly belong together. Even further along in the series, he will also struggle to choose between two women, asking literally anyone and everyone he encounters for input.

In the case of “My Coffee With Niles”, Frasier continues to evade the question until, finally, it is presented to him again, this time by a waitress growing tired of adjusting his order to meet his specificities:

Waitress: “Zimbabwe decaf, non-fat milk, no cinnamon in sight. Now—are you happy?”

Frasier: [really answering Niles’ initial question] “You know, in the greater scheme…yes, I’d say I am.”

Arguably, perhaps it is up to the viewers to decide how true this will prove to be for him as the seasons continue.

2) “Dinner Party”

Relevant Episode Information: Niles and Frasier decide to co-host a dinner party, but struggle to agree on the people they should and should not invite.

Primary Question: Are Niles and Frasier too reliant on one another? Are they odd?

Almost any episode that deals primarily with the brothers Crane rivalry is among the most re-watchable for me. In “Author, Author” and “The Innkeepers”, their egos humorously and inevitably clash as they try to co-write a book and co-manage a restaurant, respectively. In “IQ”, Frasier’s personal ego takes a major hit as he learns that Niles is the brother with the higher IQ—and that it’s more than just a mere couple of points in difference. Many of the show’s best one-liners are also directly relevant to their tendency to one up the other, for instance:

Frasier: “Niles, I would shave my head for you.”

Niles: “A gesture which becomes less significant with each passing year.”

 

Niles: [filling in for Frasier’s radio show] “Although I feel perfectly qualified to fill Frasier’s radio shoes, I should warn you that while Frasier is a Freudian, I am a Jungian. So there’ll be no blaming mother today.”

 

Indeed, “Dinner Party” is not without its bickering moments between the two. Nonetheless, aside from the joy of watching these two play off no one but each other for most of the episode, what makes this episode so memorable to me is that it poignantly touches on the fact that Niles and Frasier do, ultimately, have a loving and very close relationship despite everything. Still, a running joke throughout the series questions if they in fact spend too much time together; other characters repeatedly tease them for bringing the other as a “date” to one function or another.

Here, the brothers accidentally hear someone they are planning on inviting to their party refer to them as “that one” and “the other one”; it is unclear which is which but the underlying suggestion that the two are almost interchangeable to some is clear. Niles and Frasier proceed to over-analyze and debate its meaning:

Frasier: “Perhaps she has a point. Ever since your divorce you have become more and more attached to me. Maybe that’s why she said what she said.”

Niles: “What?”

Frasier: “You get Frasier, you get that Niles!”

Niles: “She didn’t say that. She said, “you get the one, you get that other one.” What makes you think that you’re the one and I’m that other one?”

Frasier: “I am the one giving the party, and you are that other one!”

Niles: “I’m the one that invited her, so that makes you that other one!”

And, in one of my favorite exchanges of the episode:

Niles: “Why is Joaquin on such a strict diet?”

Frasier: “Because the Joaquin they’re bringing to dinner is… their foster child, from a tiny village on the Pampas. He speaks no English and he gets nauseated when he eats American food.”

Niles: “So, he’s not the conductor of the Buenos Aires Philharmonic?”

Frasier: “Oh, you are so “that other one”!”

This episode’s key question is not given a clear answer. Niles and Frasier bicker (whilst becoming increasingly disenchanted with the idea of throwing this party at all), Martin maintains that they are not odd (“just special”), and the episode ends with the brothers resolving to not care what others think and enjoy each other’s company at dinner—before quickly changing their minds.

Well then, are Frasier and Niles too dependent on one another? I am an only child and so cannot personally identify with a sibling relationship. At the same time, I—as, I believe, can most people—understand how rare and wonderful it is to find even one person with whom you can talk endlessly and share similar interests or ways of thinking and that there is nothing wrong with valuing such a friendship. To paraphrase Frasier’s final response in “My Coffee With Niles”, perhaps in the grand scheme of things it is one of the keys to lasting happiness.

The Best Has Already Come: A Tribute to Frank Sinatra

(Please excuse this one off-topic post; I could not let Sinatra’s 100th birthday pass without writing about him 🙂 )

 

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I remember the first time I listened to my grandfather’s CD player. As Grandpa sat beside me, there was a twinkle in his eye; he carefully unwrapped a hard candy, making sure to thoughtfully offer me one as well, while selecting an album from his impressive collection. I must confess that I do not recall which song he played for me, but I remember the album itself. I remember the voice.

The album’s cover intrigued me: a man smiling and gazing into the distance as if he had just thought of something spectacularly wonderful. It was as if he possessed a beautiful secret others would long to know just from glancing into his wistful eyes—but it was his secret and no one could fully guess (though they would try). The man in question was Frank Sinatra; the album was Frank Sinatra’s Greatest Hits. Even though I was a young girl at the time, I instantly recognized the name as someone famous, someone important. It’s just that this was the first time I was learning why.

“Your Grandma and I have been listening to Frank Sinatra for years. There were a lot of great singers when we were growing up, but Sinatra was always the best”, Grandpa explained—a statement he would repeat for many years to come.

And so we sat in a complacent silence, listening. I was captivated; there was something remarkably unique about Sinatra, even from that first song—something warm, sincere and inviting, something never quite matched by any other singer up to that point or since. Of course, I asked Grandpa if I could borrow the album, to which he readily agreed.

Since then, scarcely a day goes by when I am not aware of the myriad of ways in which Sinatra has touched my life, the ways in which he will undoubtedly continue to do so. I think of his films: from watching Robin and the 7 Hoods with my father as a child to finally seeing High Society a few months ago, his warmth is as apparent onscreen as it is on an album (of course, there’s humor there as well). I remember the articles, the books, the documentaries—all the wonderful works of fiction and nonfiction highlighting the incredible life of this singer, actor, civil rights activist, legend. I recall last summer, when I referenced my Grandpa’s love for Sinatra in the eulogy I wrote for him; whenever I listen to Sinatra—as I am now while writing this—I imagine he is still with me, smiling.

Today marks what would have been Sinatra’s 100th birthday—sadly, The Chairman has been gone for close to twenty years; but when you consider how lucky the world was to have him and his music at all, this passage of time—this period of time where Sinatra has not been physically present—seems insignificant. Sinatra never really leaves. His music is not akin to that soundtrack you listened to for three months straight before growing tired of it or that one pop song you played on repeat incessantly until it, too, bored you. Listening to and loving Sinatra’ music is not a phase; it is a lifestyle. There is a Sinatra song for everything, every time, every place: excited, in love, broken-hearted, lonely, proud, dejected, celebratory, reflective, remorseful.

Ultimately, each and every one brings me back to the initial awe I had when I first listened to him as a young girl; each and every note he sings transports my life to a place of joy, a place of love—and I’m still drawn in by his wistful eyes, wondering what he was first trying to convey. I think I get it now: the secret is in that very state of awe, the fact that I listened to him as a young girl, listen to him still and shall continue to do so.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Sinatra; in the end, all I can really say is thank you.

 

 

Bewitched, Beguiled and Beloved

I owe a great deal to Bewitched. The first sitcom I ever cared about and watched religiously (via the magic of frequent reruns and DVDs), it is no exaggeration to say that my passion for sitcoms and television in general may not be where it is today without the iconic witch with a twitch.

I remember sitting at home with my mom well over a decade ago as she flipped through the channels and stopped on Bewitched. She explained its basic premise and how it had been a favorite of hers years ago; I was instantly intrigued.

“So, Samantha and Endora are both witches?” I asked. My mom nodded.

“What about him?” I inquired, indicating Dick York’s Darrin (by the way, if there is anyone who prefers Dick Sargent’s Darrin let me know as I have never encountered such a person).

“Nope, he’s a mortal, but Endora and Samantha sort of help him out sometimes,” mom said.

The more I watched Bewitched, the more I loved it. What’s not to love? The writing is funny and clever; the cast is wonderful (i.e. Darrin and Larry as the advertising dream team decades before Mad Men’s Don and Roger existed) and features some of the funniest and most memorable supporting characters of any series (i.e. nosy neighbor Gladys Kravitz, incorrigible prankster Uncle Arthur and bumbling Aunt Clara).

Then there’s also the fact that Bewitched really was ahead of its time in that it had such a strong, independent female protagonist––something that quite a few people seem skeptical about when I bring it up to them. They wonder: Isn’t Samantha a witch who becomes a housewife upon marriage and promises to give up witchcraft to please her husband, Darrin? To which, I say: Yes…but not quite.

Yes, it’s no secret that Samantha promises Darrin she won’t use witchcraft (a promise she rarely keeps, otherwise there would be no show), but this isn’t him controlling her. It’s her choosing to have this life. The mere fact that Samantha, a witch who could zap up any dream man with a twitch of her nose, chooses to marry an ordinary mortal deemed extraordinary by her because she falls in love with him is in and of itself a sign of independence; she is choosing the life she wants, damning the consequences. If it’s considered rebellious to sneak out of the house as a teenager and risk punishment, imagine how much of a rebel Samantha was by defying her entire supernatural family’s wishes and living as a mortal.

 

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Sitcom Study: Bewitched’s “A is for Aardvark” (1×17)

Relevant Episode Information: After Darrin finds himself bedridden due to a sprained ankle, Samantha casts a spell that causes their house to respond to his desires. But will he become too carried away with his newfound witchcraft?

In what producer William Asher considered to be the definitive Bewitched episode, “A is for Aardvark” reiterates just how much Samantha loves and values her life with Darrin. The episode has several humorous moments as Darrin grapples with and ultimately enjoys his newfound magical prowess, but what really makes it so pivotal is its emotional ending. Fully embracing the magical life, Darrin retracts his objections to witchcraft and now fully supports living a more supernatural life. He goes as far as quitting his job and proposing that he and Samantha partake on an extensive trip around the world. This breaks Samantha’s heart; she doesn’t want such extravagance, she is happy with the life they have built and earned together.

Finally, Darrin comes around as he presents Samantha with a bouquet of flowers and a watch (“I love you every second” as the inscription):

Sam: “Oh Darrin, I love you… please believe me, this watch and these flowers are the most important things I’ve ever had in my whole life…but I want you to understand.”

Darrin: “I do understand, no one’s gonna take them away from you…I don’t know if I’m too crazy about the idea of never having to worry about anything anymore. “

Sam: “Oh! You do understand!”

The scene is particularly poignant not only because it highlights the sincerity of the couple’s love and Samantha’s commitment to living as normal of a life as possible, but it also reveals just how human Samantha truly is as a character. She does not want anything handed to her, she wants to make her own happiness. The tears she cries here are tears of joy; she is relieved that the man she fell in love with is not lost. She is relieved to work for what she wants and enjoy what she has. What could be more human for a witch to feel than that?

Why I Love Sam and Diane, But Not Ross and Rachel

It was only a matter of time before I would have to address a key aspect of any good sitcom: relationships. While types of couples such as “friends before lovers” (i.e. The Office’s Jim and Pam) and “the bickering yet lovable married couple” (i.e. Everybody Loves Raymond’s Ray and Debra) are undoubtedly common, one would be hard-pressed to find a trope more enduring and entertaining to watch than the “on-again/off-again” couple. This trope has become a part of nearly every sitcom and is often predictable to the point where it is usually easy to point out which two characters will engage in a series-long “will they/won’t they” dance as early on as the pilot episode. Nonetheless, two couples in particular stand head and shoulders above the rest as arguably the most famous (or infamous, as the case may be) to popularize this theme: Cheers’ Sam and Diane and Friends’ Ross and Rachel.

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Both couples have reached such an iconic level that, not only is it hard to say one half of either couple’s name without immediately thinking of the other, but each pair are so well-known for particular lines and scenes that one does not even have to be overly familiar with either show to recognize them. For Sam and Diane, these include: the “slap fight” (“Are you as turned on as I am?” “More!”), their legendary banter and “have a good life.” For Ross and Rachel, these include: “lobsters”, Rachel getting off the plane and “WE WERE ON A BREAK!”

Despite some understandable similarities between these two couples, I have always found myself loving Sam and Diane, but not Ross and Rachel. This has definitely surprised quite a few people in my life. After all, any good Friends fan is supposed to love Ross and Rachel, right? When I first thought over why I preferred Sam and Diane, the first answer that came to mind seemed a bit obvious to me: Sam and Diane engage in witty repartee a lot more than Ross and Rachel (in both the shows I watch and in my everyday life, I am a huge fan of banter). Still, I decided there had to be something more to this. Turns out, I was right.

Sitcom Study: Sam and Diane (Cheers) VS Ross and Rachel (Friends)

1) The Banter and Understanding

But first, I simply cannot write a post about Sam and Diane without talking about the sizzling chemistry that exudes every time they speak to one another. Like Star Wars’ Han and Leia or That ‘70s Show’s Jackie and Hyde, theirs is a “love-hate relationship” consisting of a seemingly never-ending battle of verbal judo, forcing the viewer to wonder when they will finally kiss and admit that this banter is only a mask for deeper, more genuine feelings (which, of course, they do). Sam and Diane never make things too easy for each other during their courtship days, but not in a dragged out “too afraid to say anything” way (*cough* Ross *cough*) or a “rambling on for eighteen pages––front and back” way (*cough* Rachel *cough*). Instead, Sam and Diane were all too aware of the other person’s flaws. Diane knew Sam had a history of womanizing and could be cocky and a bit dim-witted; she also recognized his warm heart and believed in him. Sam knew Diane talked too much and could be pretentious and snobby; he also knew she was fun and deeply caring. They were constantly challenging each other and, boy, was it entertaining:

Diane: “Didn’t you ever fantasize about me?”

Sam: “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Diane: “And I you. What did you fantasize about?”

Sam: “Mostly you’d stop using phrases like, ‘and I you.’”

Sam: “At least my dates don’t count the number of letters in sentences.”

Diane: “Your dates can’t form sentences.”

As much as Sam and Diane are aware that the other is far from perfect, so too are they quick and able to recognize their own shortcomings when it matters most, such as the way Sam does here:

Sam: “Diane, please…maybe Frasier can give you an iron-clad guarantee of a lifetime of security, but with me it’s a day at a time. Now, if you can live with that…call.

Due to Sam’s past, there are points in which he struggles with the idea of commitment and marriage––two things very important to Diane. As proven by the aforementioned quote, Sam understands that this has frustrated Diane. Not wanting to make her any empty promises he may not be able to keep (after all, there always is a drawback in thinking too ahead with, say, where you and your significant other’s currently non-existing children will grow up, right Ross?), he nonetheless lets her know he loves her.

2) Proving the Love

    One of my favorite things about Sam and Diane is that, amidst all the banter, they have several beautifully sincere moments that prove just how much they care and understand what is important to each other. In “Sumner’s Return” (2×05), Diane’s ex-fiancé Sumner comes back and makes Sam uncomfortable since Sumner is more academically smart than he is. But whereas Sumner may be more able to hold a conversation about literature or art, Sam’s actions are more sincere; Diane knows this, as exemplified by one of my favorite moments:

Sam: “Why did you pick me [over Sumner]?”

Diane: “You read War and Peace.”

Sam: “So did he.”

Diane: “You did it for me.”

So, while Ross may have been willing to “drink the fat” (“The One Where No One’s Ready, 3×02), neither Ross nor Rachel show an interest in the other’s primary interests in the way that Sam and Diane aim to do for each other. Instead, Rachel frequently joins in on jokes about Ross’ job, while Ross mocks Rachel’s first real step into the world of fashion as “just a job.”

As I have mentioned earlier, one of the most infamous aspects of Ross and Rachel’s relationship is undoubtedly when they went “on a break.” What is a comparably lesser-known fact is that there is an episode of Cheers in which Sam and Diane also take a “break.” Both “breaks” inspire anxiety for both couples but in very different ways that lead to drastically different results for each pair.

In the case of Ross and Rachel, Ross immediately leaves upon hearing Rachel suggest maybe they should take “a break from [each other]”, not bothering to take the time to sit down with Rachel and maturely discuss if this is really the best course of action for them. Rachel quickly realizes she does not want to take a break, and calls Ross only for him to jump to the incorrect conclusion that she is cheating on him with her co-worker Mark (Rachel should have been more adamant about Mark not coming over to talk, but still) and proceeds to sleep with Chloe the Copy Girl. This ultimately leads them to break up for good.

In the case of Sam and Diane, Diane proposes that the pair take a one-day “break” so that the two may have “One Last Fling” (5×18) if they so desire. Similar to Ross, Sam becomes anxious over the idea of Diane being with another man. Unlike Ross, Sam chooses to not have a fling (and neither does Diane).

3) They Knew When to Let Go

   Each couple ends differently by their respective show’s series finale: Ross and Rachel end up together (after six years of not being a couple), and Sam and Diane do not (after six years of being apart).

In Cheers’ season five finale, Sam and Diane are planning on marrying when Diane learns that she has the opportunity to achieve her dream of finishing one of her novels and having it published. Diane does not want to leave Sam, but he selflessly encourages her to live her dream in this heartbreaking moment:

Sam: “Hey, have a good life.”

Diane: “Have a good life?”

Sam: “What?”

Diane: “Well, that’s something you say when something’s over. Sam, I’m going away for six months. That’s all. So no more of this ‘Have a good life’ stuff.”

Sam: “You never know. You could die, I could die, the world could end. One of us could bump our heads and wander the streets the rest of our lives with amnesia. Or maybe, one of us will decide we want something else.”

Diane: “None of those things will happen. I’ll be back here. I will. I’ll see you in six months, OK?”

(Diane leaves)

Sam: “Have a good life….”

Ultimately, Diane does not return in six months. She returns in six years for the series finale where, after a brief engagement, she and Sam ultimately decide that too much time has passed for them to truly be together.

While I of course wanted to see Sam and Diane end up together, I applaud the strength and maturity it took them to let each other go––something Ross and Rachel never seemed to do. Ross usually receives more criticism for his jealousy throughout season three and the fact that in season ten (aka six years after they have broken up) Ross still cannot bring himself to be comfortable over the idea of Rachel kissing someone else (even though he himself has a girlfriend at the time), Rachel is not without blame. At the beginning of season five, Rachel decides it is a good idea to tell Ross she still loves him even though he is married and everyone has advised her why this is a horrible idea; she realizes this is a horrible idea herself, laughing at herself for telling him. And do I really have to address what is problematic about Rachel giving up her dream to go to Paris to stay with a guy she has not been with in six years (and with whom problems have not been fully resolved) or how Ross has never really supported Rachel’s career aspirations in the first place?

While Sam and Diane are certainly not without their flaws as a couple, when compared to Ross and Rachel I ultimately find them to be the far more entertaining, enduring pair––and did I mention their banter?

           

 

Not Letting Baggage (or a Suitcase Full of Cheese) Win

With over a dozen Emmy wins and ratings that kept it within the “top ten most-watched shows” list for five out of its nine seasons, Everybody Loves Raymond was undeniably one of the most successful sitcoms of the 90’s/early 2000’s. So, why isn’t it talked about more? Sure, the show still airs daily in reruns and has an active Facebook page to go along with it, but considering its considerable accolades it is definitely not discussed, referred to on Buzzfeed or Tweeted about nearly as much as, say, Friends.

When I ask someone if they have seen Friends I generally hear one of the following: “Not really, but I’d like to watch it more” or “OMG YES I WATCH IT ALL THE TIME! I AM CHANDLER, CHANDLER IS ME.” On the other hand, when I ask the same of Everybody Loves Raymond, I usually hear more casual responses along the lines of “watching it sometimes.” Of course, I understand the love for Friends. It is my favorite show and it is no exaggeration to say that I can identify any episode within moments and quote it word for word. But here’s the thing: I can do the same with Everybody Loves Raymond.

Maybe I can more often personally identify with the characters in Friends because, like them, I am a twenty-something living in New York City, but Everybody Loves Raymond is all about family and my real-life experience of watching the show has always been tied to my family. When I was younger, I actively watched it with my parents. By the time I reached high school, my maternal grandmother discovered a love for the show and to this day it remains one of our most fond bonding experiences. Then, of course, there is the fact that I am half-Italian and often joke that my paternal grandmother is like Marie Barone (in the “makes amazing food way”, not “intrusive” way, thankfully).

I may not be married with kids, nor do I have an older policeman brother or a father who frequently screams “holy crap”, but its deeper themes have always resonated with me. In fact, this blog was originally supposed to be exclusively dedicated to Everybody Loves Raymond before I thought expanding it would be fun. Of course, that does not mean I will not still write posts showing why I love it––the following episode seems like a good place to start.

Sitcom Study: Everybody Loves Raymond’s “Baggage” (7×22)

Relevant Episode Information: Ray and Debra return home from a weekend getaway, but one thing remains from their vacation even as the weeks pass: the suitcase they brought with them, which remains on the staircase. Both passive-aggressively refuse to move it, believing it is the other’s person “place” to do so.

If one of the greatest debates within the Friends fandom is whether or not Ross and Rachel’s presumed and infamous “break” made it okay for Ross to sleep with Chloe the Copy Girl (I’ll get to that in a future post), one of the great debates in the Everybody Loves Raymond fandom is probably the one in this episode: Was it Ray or Debra’s “place” to move the suitcase?

One of my favorite things about Everybody Loves Raymond is the fact that, in most cases, whenever two characters are fighting there is a valid reason for both parties to feel hurt or upset. For example, in “Ray’s Journal”, Ray has every right to feel that his mother Marie violated his privacy by reading his journal when he was a child. At the same time, it is understandable that viewers (especially those who are parents) will sympathize with Marie when she reads Ray’s entry: “I ehat (his not-so-secretive code for “hate”) my mom.” In “Baggage”, both Ray and Debra have valid reasons for not wanting to be “the one to move the suitcase”, but this is only a small part as to why this episode is so intriguing and worth analyzing.

In the beginning of the episode, Ray explains the suitcase situation to his brother, Robert. Ray explains how he believes that, at this point, Debra is deliberately refusing to move the suitcase in order to “wait him out” and “win.” He then adds that she is “gonna be waiting a long time.” Robert has the logical, incredulous response: “This is insane…you’ve had a two-week fight over a suitcase.” Ray insists that it is not a fight since they have not actually been arguing and ups the stakes by filling the suitcase with cheese. Meanwhile, Ray’s father Frank urges Ray to not back down because whoever moves the suitcase will symbolically be the one who “wears the pants” in the relationship. Later, Debra tells Frank that her anger over the situation stems from the fact that since she does “everything” around the house, it wouldn’t hurt Ray to move the suitcase up the flight of stairs. Finally, Marie urges Debra to move the suitcase to prove she is “the bigger person”, following a story about a similar fight she once had with Frank over a big fork and spoon. She memorably says: “Don’t let a suitcase full of cheese be your big fork and spoon.”

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            It is definitely a loaded episode with a great number of ideas to consider from each character’s perspective. I truly love Robert’s line about how ridiculous a “two-week fight over a suitcase” is. He is right. Actually, the idea of any fight between two individuals lasting two weeks (especially when about something as inconsequential as a suitcase) is ridiculous. Obviously, it is understandable that the people involved may want some time (maybe a few hours or a couple of days) to calm down and reconsider their feelings about the fight. But “taking space” about the same issue beyond a couple of days? That solves nothing.

Whether the fight is with a colleague, a significant other or a friend, completely avoiding the other person (not to mention the original disagreement) for too long leads nowhere positive and usually implies one of two scenarios: “I haven’t been mad for days but my stubborn desire to ‘win’ this fight by not being the one to talk first is more important to me than solving this” or “I’m still mad and obviously am okay with losing you over this, otherwise I would say something.” If you can honestly and sincerely assess yourself to the point where you realize that neither scenario matches how you have been feeling and that you truly want to mend fences, the solution is simple: speak to the person directly.

“Baggage”, if albeit a bit indirectly, also deals with the notion of how a “little fight” is usually not about that one fight at all. In the heat of the moment, it can be easy to think that your frustration with the other person really is about, say, a suitcase. When you take the time to truly consider it, however, you will usually realize that the “little fight” merely symbolizes a more general, often deeper frustration. For instance, Debra’s comment that she feels she does “everything” around the house complements a repeated theme in the show concerning how Debra often feels unappreciated and wishes Ray would help out more. There are definitely episodes throughout the series where Debra directly explains her feelings to Ray and he understands. For comedic effect, Ray’s helpfulness typically does not last too long. In real life, of course, directly telling someone why a particular issue upsets you so much ideally garners a more lasting understanding.

Finally, there is Marie’s humorous yet poignant line: “Don’t let a suitcase full of cheese be your big fork and spoon.” Probably one of my favorite lines in the entire series, its message is vital and clear: do not let a minor disagreement weigh you down. Also, never fill a suitcase with cheese.

Tossed Salad and Bulletproof Bracelets

Author’s Note: My apologies for the delay between posts, I recently returned from a few weeks of study abroad in London. 🙂

            Whenever I give my father a card for a holiday such as his birthday or Father’s Day, I always mention Frasier. Amidst thanking him for things like, you know, paying for my college tuition and co-raising me, I thank him for introducing me to TV’s snobby yet lovable Seattle-born psychiatrist. From frequently quoting the show in everyday life (“If you need me, I’ll be at my club” and “I am wounded” being two of my favorites) to rejoicing when Kelsey Grammer retweeted me on the 21st anniversary of the sitcom, Frasier has definitely left its mark on me. Incredibly smart, funny and critically acclaimed (it currently holds the record for most Emmy wins of any sitcom), it is safe to say this will not be the only post I dedicate to Frasier. While it would not be Frasier without Frasier Crane (and he’s also the character my dad and I both identify with most on the show, go figure), this post will not focus on the titular character; this one is for Roz Doyle (and Wonder Woman).

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Sitcom Study: Frasier’s “Room Full of Heroes” (9×06)

Relevant Episode Information: Frasier hosts a Halloween costume party where he asks his guests to come dressed as their personal hero. When Roz shows up as Wonder Woman, he belittles her decision, thinking she confused “personal hero” with “superhero”––but did she?

Years before Sex and the City premiered and introduced the self-described “try-sexual” (aka she’ll try anything once) Samantha Jones, Roz was a character who took almost as much pride in her active sex life (despite frequent jokes from Frasier and his brother Niles) as she did in her career-driven nature. She was never afraid to speak her mind or go after what she wanted, two undeniably admirable qualities despite what you (or Frasier for that matter) may think of her love life. It is because of Roz’s flirtatious nature that Frasier jumps to the conclusion that she is not taking his game seriously and merely wanted to wear something “frivolous.”

Roz initially pretends to have simply misunderstood the rules of Frasier’s game before finally coming clean: “Actually, I didn’t misunderstand anything. You made so much fun of my costume, I got so embarrassed, so I lied. Wonder Woman really is my hero! I mean, she’s smart and beautiful, moral, and totally independent.” Realizing that Roz took the game seriously all along, Frasier offers her a sincere apology.

There are several reasons why I find this scene so poignant, but there are two in particular that stand out to me. First of all, like Roz, I have always admired Wonder Woman. Ever since my dad introduced me to Justice League (thanks again, dad) in fourth grade and my mom introduced me to the Lynda Carter series around the same time (thanks, mom), I have been a diehard fan: I have dressed as her for Halloween (but Roz’s costume was more authentic looking than mine), pretended to fight crime as her, read countless Wonder Woman comics and graphic novels, enjoyed the 2011 animated film about her and became thrilled to know she is finally starring in a live-action movie (if you have not yet seen the Batman v Superman trailer, go do so…and then watch some Frasier, of course).

Secondly, also like Roz, I recognize the merit in admiring fictional characters. While reality is full of admirable figures (here’s thinking of you, grandpa), there is a reason why “which character from show X” quizzes are so popular. There is something special about recognizing that a fictional character resonates with us. I have seen each episode of Frasier several times, but maybe the show would not be as important to me if I were not able to have those moments where I realize I can relate to a particular character’s situation or personality. Frankly, I find it fun to be able to say that the Friends character I am most like is Monica (with Chandler’s humor and a few of the other characters’ elements, as my About page says) and the Disney heroines I identify with most are Jasmine and Megara. So, the next time someone you know finds comfort in a work of fiction or is proud of identifying with a certain character, remember it is perfectly okay—and we all do it.